“Do you know why they are estranged?” Lucy asked. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. It’s all nonsense. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. Some of your sex, I mean. “Now step aside, I have some business to attend to.
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